What to expect at the Democratic National Convention

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The Republicans had their fun in Cleveland, a city sometimes known as "the mistake on the lake." Now the Democrats are crowding into Philadelphia, a city W.C. Fields loved, but also loved to ridicule. The focus of the GOP convention was largely on Hillary Clinton. The focus of the Democratic convention will likely be the same.

National political conventions in the United States have become scripted events designed to put the best face on a presidential campaign – in some cases to reintroduce a candidate, in others to refine the profile the nominee has developed over the course of a bruising primary and caucus campaign.

In the Democrats' case, the notion of reintroducing Ms. Clinton is implausible. She has been in the public eye since 1991 and it is as unlikely to say something new about the former secretary of state as it it is for graduate students in English to have a fresh insight into Macbeth. With her quarter-century of exposure to American voters, Ms. Clinton's handlers are stuck with refining her image, and with stressing her experience, competence and temperament – a theme amplified by Sunday's endorsement from former New York mayor Michael Bloomberg.

So with another four days of American political spectacle in the offing, here is a viewers' guide to the Democratic National Convention and a tip sheet on what to expect:

Will there be a dramatic contrast with the Republican convention that wrapped up last week?

The demographics of Democratic conventions customarily differ dramatically from those of a GOP conclave. The Democratic conventioneers are more likely to wear union jackets and be teachers. They are more likely to be women, and in many cases to be women of a substantially different outlook than their Republican counterparts. There certainly will be more members of minorities, particularly blacks. In the past, Democratic convention delegates were more likely to wear blue collars; the ascendancy of Donald Trump in the Republican primaries has changed that, however.

The GOP convention was in large measure an indictment of Ms. Clinton. The Democratic convention will be more like the closing argument of a defence lawyer. The Republicans chanted: "Jail her!" The Democratic riposte will be: "Elect her!" The people who howl for her indictment and those baying for her inauguration have almost nothing in common.

The American newspaperman and cynical social critic H.L. Mencken once wrote that a political campaign was "better than the best circus ever heard of." The Republican convention was mostly a joyless affair, especially Mr. Trump's acceptance speech, which painted a dark picture of a nation he suggested yearned for a "law-and-order" president. The task for the Democrats, whose President's approval ratings actually moved up last week, is to show some joy, and to share it.

Will the mood be different from the GOP conclave?

Almost certainly. Most of the Democratic delegates will line up firmly behind Ms. Clinton (and her newly minted running mate, Senator Tim Kaine of Virginia) – even most of those who prefer Bernie Sanders, the senator from Vermont who gave Ms. Clinton a spirited fight but finally endorsed her earlier this month. There will be a few Sanders loyalists who aren't on board the Clinton train, especially after the recent WikiLeaks revelation that party leaders conspired to diminish the Vermonter and short-circuit his campaign. So one of the things to watch for is how recalcitrant the Sanders rump remains. Mr. Sanders speaks Monday night. He'll likely get a very warm response – his last hurrah on the American political stage.

The Philadelphia hall will be divided between Clinton loyalists and Clinton skeptics, so any schism among them will be worth noticing. But the great likelihood is that the Democrats' shared contempt for Mr. Trump will draw them together. "You don't want to dwell on your enemies," the American author John Irving once wrote. True enough. But the delegates here, like those in Cleveland, studied political science, not literature. They'll dwell all week.

What will be the role of former president Bill Clinton?

This will be one of the most closely observed aspects of this convention. Never before has a former president witnessed his wife win a White House nomination, and never before has there been a real chance that the new president's spouse would be a man. Bill Clinton likes to talk about breaking barriers and, a month short of his 70th birthday, he could be breaking one himself.

Mr. Clinton is a veteran of political conventions, once with disastrous results, four times with remarkable performances. The disaster came in 1988, when his speech in the Atlanta hall rambled on so long that his greatest applause came with the sentence that began, "In conclusion …" He won plaudits for his convention speeches in 1992, when he reminded Americans that he came "from a place called Hope," and in 1996, when he was nominated for re-election amid a celebratory mood. Perhaps his greatest convention speech came in 2012, when he became the first former president to deliver a nominating speech. He did so on behalf of Barack Obama, who actually appeared in the hall to hear the speech, which included a line you won't likely hear this year: Politics "does not have to be a blood sport."

Mr. Clinton speaks on Tuesday night and his remarks will likely be the main event of the proceedings of that evening, when Ms. Clinton formally is nominated. His is a difficult challenge: Being Bill while being the spouse. He has to shine – but not outshine.

Will the Clinton bump overwhelm the Trump bump?

This is not a dance routine we're talking about, nor a Cambridge boat race. Presidential nominees work hard to win a "bump" in the polls – a surge in popularity – after their conventions, and often that bump is substantial. Among the biggest bumps were those that came for Mr. Clinton in 1992 and for Lyndon Johnson in 1964. Sometimes these bumps last for weeks, but oftentimes they are countered by the bumps produced by their rivals.

Customarily the two parties' conventions are separated by several weeks, which gives life to the bump of the first candidate's convention. The two conventions in 1988 were separated by five weeks, which allowed governor Michael Dukakis of Massachusetts a lengthy, and substantial, bump. But this year's conventions are separated by a mere weekend. (The tradition is that the party out of office has its party first, the party holding the White House goes second.)

That small interregnum between the conventions is unusual, though the two 1952 sessions – both in Chicago – were separated by only a fortnight, in part to accommodate the new medium of television, which required enormous amounts of heavy equipment and extensive, complicated wiring. The danger for Mr. Trump in 2016 is that any goodwill that emerged from his convention could be submerged in a wave of enthusiasm for Ms. Clinton after her convention. His bump could last two days, hers for many weeks.

Special to The Globe and Mail